


how bitter a thing

by txilar



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Did They or Didn't They, Genjutsu, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Past Underage, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22764832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/txilar/pseuds/txilar
Summary: Itachi only wanted a kiss.
Relationships: Uchiha Itachi/Umino Iruka
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60





	how bitter a thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [megyal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/gifts).



> I wrote this a _very_ long time ago and, in an effort to return to my favourite hobby, have cleaned it up and present it for megyal's reading pleasure. May it please you my great friend! At Megyal's Great Will, I share it with you all and hope you like it.

_To have known love, how bitter a thing it is,_  
_And afterward be cast out_  
Swinburne

"Sasuke killed him?" 

Iruka felt as though he'd been punched in the gut. Suddenly he couldn't breathe. His chest was tight and heavy, like his lungs had stopped working, had never known how.

"Yeah! Details are classified, I mean, well, technically it’s an _unconfirmed_ but very likely rumour. I heard Hunters were heading out to retrieve the body, but there's nothing official yet." The ninja who told him was breathless with excitement, his eyes lit with a triumphant gleam.

"That's—impressive. Itachi is— _was_ —was—powerful. I hope Sasuke feels vindicated."

The chūnin who had passed the news on to him nodded enthusiastically, clapping Iruka’s shoulder and went on talking about whether Sasuke would return.

Iruka finished his file and went outside. 

For air.

A chance to breathe. For a moment to still the whirling inside. A shaky inhale left him faint. It had been so long since he'd thought about Itachi, but it felt as though he could turn around the young man would be standing behind him. Iruka wondered how much Itachi had changed.

Did Itachi think of him? It was a foolish, indulgent curiosity, but he couldn’t help himself.

He could almost see Itachi in Sasuke’s features, but Itachi was such a complex balance: hard, cold, sly, beautiful. Sasuke, driven by a confusing rage of bitterness, hostility, and arrogance, fell short.

Iruka’s stomach curled as he recalled Itachi’s visit, only days before he—before the—Iruka didn't want to remember, he wished it had never happened, but how he'd longed— 

_'I've never been kissed, sensei.'_

Itachi had come to Iruka shy and sure. Wanton and intense. And though Iruka didn't like to admit it, the quiver that touched between his shoulder blades at the time had been a reaction of both fear and excitement. Trepidation and want.

_He's a child._

_Barely._

_When I was that age, I—_

_He’s different from you._

The voices in Iruka's head were not steady. And there was nothing childlike about Itachi.

Iruka doubted there ever had been. ANBU wore away childhood as easily as it wore away emotion, innocence, and fear. On top of the responsibilities of his clan, managing his Sharingan abilities, and being a prodigy amongst prodigies—no, Itachi had never had a chance at childhood.

\\\\\

"Just one kiss, sensei. Tell me goodbye." 

Itachi stood just beyond Iruka's knees, his own knee bent, foot resting against Iruka's crotch, poised to push, almost pushing. Iruka could feel him pushing, but Itachi was still. He watched Iruka through narrowed eyes.

Iruka shifted, turning slightly, in his chair. "This is--isn’t a good idea. You’re not an adult, not really, and—"

"Neither are you. Not really.” Itachi’s tone was mocking and Iruka thought for a moment that he was right. “If I were older it would be all right?" he mused.

No, Iruka thought. Probably not.

Itachi reached out and touched a strand of hair at Iruka's ear, fingertips trailing down his throat. Itachi licked his upper lip and tilted his head, staring at Iruka as if assessing him. His smile was not pleasant, the hint of a sneer touching the cupid’s bow looked down on Iruka. Itachi reached out and grazed Iruka’s temple with his thumb.

“Sasuke speaks of you. His favourite sensei.” Itachi spoke ponderously. As if speaking of someone else. Idle chat about a fellow shinobi.

Caught in his grasp, Iruka went still, though his heart pounded furiously, trying to escape. He didn’t know he was Sasuke’s favourite sensei. He almost doubted Itachi. Sasuke was a good student, determined and sure. Iruka paid him little attention to be honest, knowing he was capable of completing assignments.

All his extra time went to herding the jinchūriki, the ill-behaved brat who reminded him of himself. A hoarded monster whose reflected pain was beginning to keep Iruka up at night.

“He blushes when he speaks of you.” Itachi’s mouth quirked in what might have been a grin. “Says you are so strong, so smart, and so kind.” His fingers continued touching Iruka, light curious taps.

“That doesn’t sound like a shinobi to me.”

Iruka wasn't foolish. He knew that Itachi, despite his age, despite the slender and fragile build, was far, far more capable than he, not to mention his Sharingan. He knew his best bet—his only hope—was to talk Itachi out of this. Before it turned into something—else.

"Itachi—"

"Yes?" Itachi’s right hand traced the contours of Iruka's face, while his left smoothed over his hair.

He'd moved closer, foot still against Iruka, his knee nearly pressed to Iruka's chest. Iruka had to look up at him. He shifted again, trying to ease the disparity between them, knowing full well it was more than just height that separated them.

"You need to go home. Now."

Itachi smiled, almost laughing. "No, sensei, that's the last thing I need to do now."

"I’ll go." Iruka put his hands on the arms of his chair and moved to stand. Itachi's right hand slid to his shoulder and tightened. Iruka looked up. Itachi's eyes were narrow and the vivid red and black pattern spun lazily. 

"No, don’t..." Iruka shook his head and grabbed Itachi's hand, intending to remove it from his shoulder, but he held on tight.

Itachi's eyes were wide and Iruka lost himself in his gaze.

\\\\\

Iruka knew it wasn’t real when Itachi touched him—it couldn’t be. Moments ago, he’d been at his desk, to stand, to tell Itachi goodbye, no kiss, sorry, but now, now he couldn’t breathe, his lungs were tight and small and shrinking and spinning and heavy and he couldn’t breathe. He fell. Again.

_I can’t breathe!_

Itachi sat on Iruka’s chest, a smile playing at his lips as he watched Iruka. His naked weight pressed Iruka down. He straddled Iruka, holding him in place, the warmth of his legs tucked against Iruka’s side.

Iruka knew it wasn’t real, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t fight, could not deny. He couldn’t push Itachi away, his hands dropping to the knees holding him down. He tried again, hands sliding along Itachi’s thighs, curving around his backside.

_I can’t do this._

Itachi leaned forward and placed his hands flat on Iruka’s shoulders.

_I can’t stop._

Itachi’s warmth moved across Iruka. He felt his hands reaching out, unable to stop them.

Itachi smiled as he slid backwards.

\\\\\

Iruka came to. On his back. On the floor. He lifted his head. He was weak, he ached, he burned, he quivered from over-stimulation, even if it wasn't real. Was it real? If he felt it— remembered it, was it real? Did dreams count as real if they were orchestrated as reality? Intended as— 

It was too much. His eyes burned. He kept them shut for a moment, squeezed tight; the pain so unbearable he couldn't open them. When he opened them again, he felt a tear trickle down the side of his face, catching near his nose.

"Just a kiss, sensei. That's all I want."

Iruka rubbed his mouth as he sat up, Itachi kneeling beside him, leaning against Iruka. He felt dizzy, almost nauseous. Itachi placed his hands on Iruka's face, palms flat against his cheeks. His hands were cool.

Itachi leaned in close, licking his lips, and kissed Iruka. Gently, lightly. A warm, chaste press of lips against his.

Iruka couldn't help it, he opened his mouth and felt Itachi do the same. He waited for more, but Itachi just waited, mouth open against Iruka's.

"Show me," he whispered against Iruka's lips.

"I can’t." Iruka felt like back-tracking, taking away his barely implied assent. “You’re too—”

"Shh," Itachi said, almost smiling. His smiles were troubling, incomplete. He kissed Iruka again, his lips wet from licking. It was soft, nearly innocent. He moved now with purpose, kissing Iruka again and again, his hands sliding from Iruka’s shoulders and forcing his head back. He held Iruka tightly, pulling and pushing with determination.

"Open your mouth, sensei. Show me." This time he wasn't whispering, wasn't gentle, and his fingers dug into Iruka's skin.

Burning, hating himself, Iruka did as Itachi demanded. He slid his fingers against Itachi's ears, into the fine silky strands of his hair and yanked him close. He opened his mouth against Itachi's lips, kissing him demandingly, running his tongue along Itachi's lips, biting at the full lip that had been pouting when this started.

Itachi's breath caught and his fingers loosened when Iruka pushed his tongue against Itachi's teeth. When Iruka swiped his tongue against Itachi's, he pulled Itachi forward, tugging him into his lap. Itachi made a noise when their bodies came into contact. Iruka could feel how hard he was, the arousal as forbidden as he could imagine, but he was absolutely heady with the intoxication. Itachi pushed against him, sliding first one leg, then the other around Iruka's waist.

Itachi's body wound around his; they twisted like serpents and Iruka berated himself even as he clutched Itachi to him. It was wrong, though he knew he could not have refused Itachi even if he hadn’t resorted to the Sharingan. Maybe that had been real and he was dreaming now, unconscious with lust.

He didn't know. He didn't care anymore. He gave in, allowing Itachi to push him back, let his own hands pull Itachi close.

Iruka was slipping his hands down Itachi’s back when he finally spoke.

"All I wanted was a kiss, sensei, but this is nice too."

\\\\\

Iruka remembered the feel of Itachi’s skin, and sudden heat between them. He shouldn’t know that. He bit his lip and shook himself from reminiscing further when he felt the bitter taste of blood on his lips. 

It did nothing to alleviate the memories. Itachi tasted of blood then too.

_Just a kiss, sensei._

He hadn’t kissed anyone since and he wasn’t sure he ever would.

-fin-


End file.
